Righteous Reasons
by EEevee
Summary: [Jigoku Shojou] [challenge fic] Going down in a handbasket is sometimes satisfying.


Title: Righteous Reasons

Author: Eeevee

Genre: Horror (with a crappy-er, happy ending)

Summary: Songfic challenge #9 out of 10. "Stan" by Eminem.

Disclaimer: Not mine. The storyline is totally BSed and the premise is Jigoku Shojou.

The girl shivered into her black leather jacket. It hugged tight across her lithe form, but provided little protection from the element she feared most. Breath puffed inches from her nose and a fine crust of snow powdered the tarred pavement.

Despite the frosty air, the night's sky was clear with glittering stars and a plump, white moon. There was a dull hum of traffic from the highway nearby with the occasional honk. Probably a drunk driver swerved a little; there were a lot of them out at this time. Especially after they drank themselves silly on champagne at some crowded, loud party full of other drunks.

Like the one she just left.

Absentminded, she smoothed a crumpled piece of paper over her knee repeatedly. The creases were far too deep to erase completely, but her hands brushed over it heedlessly. The French manicure on her fingernails was starting to chip, although she didn't usually do much with her hands. Nothing other than holding the microphone anyway or buttoning a nice blouse.

No, she knew why they were chipped.

And she knew why she was up at this late hour, huddled behind the club, hiding.

When she first heard the rumors about the website, she ignored them. She didn't like computers; she thought that they were useless when all she wanted to do was sing. Besides, she didn't own one and she didn't know anyone who would let her on theirs without asking awkward questions. So she just ignored it. After all, rumors were only that: rumors.

To avoid the phone calls, she changed her number… four times. Eventually she gave up and simply unplugged her home phone and didn't answer her cell phone unless she knew the number. She'd moved in with a girlfriend; somehow her old apartment echoed with emptiness and she didn't feel she had the time to find a good roommate. Or hell, even a bad roommate. Just someone, anyone, would have done, if they moved in immediately.

Her skin crawled as a clang echoed down the back alley. A scruffy cat stared balefully at her with dark yellow eyes and hissed warily.

"I don't want your trash." She informed the animal in a low, hoarse voice. The breath passing over her chapped and cracked lips make her flinch slightly and she could feel warm, copper blood dribbling down her bottom lip.

The cat flicked its tail, undecided. When she didn't move, it went back to a feast of rich leftovers from the night before. That had been a spectacular party, but it was too bad she couldn't enjoy the large, festive crowd.

Even her singing had been sub-par. The manager told her she had to do better tonight or she would be fired.

She quit.

The thrill she used to get from large crowds of cheering fans had turned to deep suspicion and paranoia.

"Why won't it be midnight already?" She complained, shivering again. The thin, black case was tucked tightly against her stomach. That was her ticket out of this mess. Besides, she borrowed it from someone, so they would probably want it back. She was even shown how to work the wi-fi to connect to the web.

Suddenly her cell phone rang cheerily. The abrupt noise made her jump and the laptop tumbled out of her lap onto the power. Hastily she scooped it up and pressed the little power button.

Nothing.

The small screen remained black.

"Damn it!" She screamed.

It had to work. It had to save her. Tonight was her last chance for revenge. If she didn't do this tonight then… well, then… she didn't know. Being raped and strangled was the most likely outcome.

It had all started when she worked at a small-time bar on the outskirts. The patrons were all pleasant and regular, but the pay sucked. Still, she had run away from home and school, so she was happy just to have a job so she could eat. The pinch of hunger had never been too far away.

One day a patron approached her. The patron coaxed her away from the small bar, saying she could do much better and waving a sizable wad of cash in front of her as a "down payment."

Her new job was bigger than her old and did pay much better. But she started getting strange phone calls. Strange, scary phone calls. It started with the other person saying they had to wrong number, but eventually they got bolder.

She jabbed the button again, harder.

Nothing.

She pushed again and again.

Nothing.

"Damn it! Work!" She commanded the machine, barely keeping the panic out of her voice.

Suddenly the laptop clicked on.

"Load faster." She urged, glancing at her watch. She only had a minute to get there. If she missed this…

Soon the calls weren't just on her cell phone. There were long messages of endearment on her answering machine. Presents of flowers and candy started appearing with light, teasing notes.

After that it was kittens.

"Hurry!"

Dead, decapitated kittens. The poor things were so tiny and bloody. The first time she opened the box, she screamed and threw it. The little body flew and left a red mark on her couch. She threw the couch out when the stain stubbornly remained. She buried the kitten under a tree in the park.

After that she just froze them then threw them in the dumpster.

"You've got mail!" An electronic voice informed her cheerily.

Her fingers flew as she jabbed to x it out and open the net. The little hourglass sign winked at her and slowly turned.

Next it was body parts.

The police didn't believe her, so she stopped going with her grisly gifts. They were too busy trying to solve a rash over serial murders to pay attention to a hysterical girl. Or at least that's what they told her.

That just made her more paranoid, but when she asked the killer's pattern the officer at the desk told her to leave.

"It starts with calls…" She said to herself, remembering the newspaper article about it. "And then flowers. Dead, black flowers."

Bewildered, she started at the entry field. She didn't know the person's name.

Hesitantly her gloved fingers clicked the keys until she spelled, "my murderer."

Enter.

She bit her lip and gave a sigh of relief when she got the reply.

Her phone went off again and she fumbled to look at the digital screen.

Shakily, she picked it up, "Hello?"

"Hello my little toy. Are you all set for your trip? I pray it will be just as fun for you as it is for me. I couldn't wait for pack up, Toy, because you are so special to me. That's why I chose you. And tonight I will give my ultimate gift: eternity. And then you will be part of me. Forever and ever."

Click.

Numbly she dropped the cell and it cracked on the pavement.

Suddenly the world swirled around her and a child in a beautiful kimono was standing before her. The air around them was stale and warm rather than the crisp, cold night air she had been breathing in for the last hour.

The solemn child spoke in a soft, velvet voice, "You seek revenge."

"Yes." The woman sobbed, "I want that bastard dead!"

"Enough so that you would forfeit your soul to Hell?" The child's expression didn't change as she said this, "A price must be paid for revenge: your soul." She held a sizeable voodoo doll in her outstretched palm.

It took half a heartbeat to decide.

"Take it now, I'm dead anyway."

Flames writhed and twisted around her flesh, burning and melting it off bleached bones. The heat seared her body past endurance and she screamed in pain.

"You are sure. If you are, pull the red string and your revenge shall be granted."

This answer was slower, but even surer, "Yes. Take that bastard where he belongs, and then take me for my sins of making a deal with the Devil." She took the doll and jerked the string. It fluttered lazily to the ground and lay like a dead snake.

Rather than receiving an answer, she suddenly found herself back in the alley. Snow had seeped into her gloves and the seat of her jeans, chilling the flesh. That didn't stop her from scrambling to her feet and staring around wildly.

Had she just nodded off? Was it all a dream?

Panic threatened to crush her. Dragging the air in and out so fast it burned her throat; she pressed against the wall and accidentally stepped on her phone. It cracked and shattered under her heel. There would be no more calls for help when her most devote found her.

"Here I come little Toy." The voice chanted and she stopped breathing all together. "We'll play under the lights and then I'll put my Baby Doll to rest. Night-night. My very special Toy will be with me forever."

She cowered behind the trashcan, kneeling in the garbage the cat had spilled in its quest for dinner. The wall stank of male cat and spoiling food, but she pressed against it anyway.

Her brain screamed for her to run, run away, fast. The blood was racing through her body, tearing apart the arteries and veins that held it and her muscles trembled like she was going to run a hundred yard dash. Her nails scrabbled and wretched at the bricks bring up beads of blood.

"Peekaboo, I see you, sweet Toy. You look so happy to see me."

And suddenly it was dark again. But this time she looked like she was staring through a distorted bubble. The images waved and twirled slowly.

Her murderer was trying to cover his eyes as a horde of Barbies jabbed with their pretty hairbrushes. They were missing body parts. One a head, others just their eyes, others still even more sadistic parts.

"Play with us!" The dolls chanted, "We want to play! We want to be with you forever! Just like you wanted to be with us, until you smothered and killed us. Please, please play with us, just like you promised!" Their faces morphed into young girls. Some she even recognized from the news reports.

"No! I don't want to play with you anymore! You're trash, rubbish! Broken toys deserve to be thrown away!" The murderer yelled, trying to swat them away.

The next time she blinked she was back in the cold alley. It had started to snow again.

Gently she scratched the back of her neck, wondering if she had been dreaming again, yet she felt oddly relieved. Her fingers brushed against a strange patch of skin. It was slick and cool to the touch.

Craning her neck around she stared at the black symbol stained on her skin and soul.

Then she gathered up the laptop and went to sing her last performance of the night…

"Hey! Great job out there." The manager praise, "I was seriously having doubts, but you pulled off a miracle. There was even this guy from a record company that wants to meet you. So come back tomorrow early, okay? I said you'd be here at nine to talk about a contract."

"Yes." She nodded, feeling those sleepless nights catch up with her. "Thank you."

As she walked by the tv she heard the late breaking news. Her finger hovered over the button as the anchor proclaimed: "Police entered the house of Yamato Yugimachi this evening at midnight. They found the remains of several young women in his basement. On his computer there were the names and addresses of several dozen more. The perpetrator has not been found, so the police advise…"

The young woman flicked off the TV and fingered the mark.

Going to Hell was never supposed to be so righteous.


End file.
